


Olympic Tryouts (part 23)

by jennamacaroni



Series: Olympic Tryouts [23]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennamacaroni/pseuds/jennamacaroni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana and Brittany have been rivals in the college hockey world for the past four years.  now they’re both at Olympic tryouts to play on the same team and Boston and Minnesota just don’t get along, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olympic Tryouts (part 23)

**Author's Note:**

> at long last, part 23. as usual, thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing and tweeting and all that good stuff, it still continues to blow my mind i have a single reader. tackle hugs for each and every one of you. i also should have another part up relatively soon assuming i can find some free time this weekend. happy friday, y’all!

“Brittany Pierce, I’m going to kill you!” Santana shrieks when she finally kicks up to the surface, smoothing the hair out of her face and looking around wildly for Brittany. She doesn’t spot her for a few moments until Brittany finally pokes just her eyes and nose out of the water quite a ways away. Santana can tell she’s wearing a wicked grin by the way her eyes sparkle and crinkle at the edges. She takes off immediately, swimming as fast as she can, but Brittany disappears under the water once more.

After a bit of a chase, Santana finally cuts her off and lunges to grab her by an ankle, dragging her backwards underwater until she can wrap a strong arm around Brittany’s neck and into a headlock.

“Ass!” she scolds as they emerge above water.

“I warned you!” Brittany sputters, using both hands to pull at Santana’s arm and trying to escape, but instead Santana wraps both legs around her tightly.

“You did not! And conspiring with my BEST FRIEND?!” she yells, eying Quinn maliciously who leans against the side wall of the pool not far from them. Quinn throws up her hands in her best defensive _it wasn’t me_ look, but Santana just glares at her.

“You are a traitor, Q!” she shouts, before turning her attention back to Brittany. “And YOU,” she warns, dropping her voice to whisper directly into Brittany’s ear, “will pay for this _later_.”

_____

They spend the next few hours alternating between romping about in the water and laying out to sunbathe in the bright afternoon sun.

It turns out Quinn wasn’t lying about Santana’s volleyball prowess as she and three other teammates easily beat Brittany and Quinn’s team in four straight games over the course of the afternoon. After game point of the final match, Brittany swims to meet Santana, a frustrated and somewhat incredulous look on her face.

“So you’re some closeted volleyball shark, huh?” she asks, panting slightly from swimming and diving all through the water during the game.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Pierce,” Santana banters, raising an eyebrow mischievously.

“Well, I’d like to know everything, please.” Santana sucks in a quick breath when Brittany’s fingers graze purposely against her hip bone underneath the water. Brittany quickly glances around for any teammates within hearing distance before leaning in close when the coast is clear. “Do you want to go out tonight? With me?” Brittany almost sounds shy.

“Are you asking me on a _daaate_?” Santana teases, wagging her eyebrows and catching Brittany’s wandering fingers, squeezing them.

“Well, yeah, I am,” Brittany answers bashfully, looking down through the water to her feet. “So, is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Santana nods, splashing a wave of water in Brittany’s face when what she really wants to do is kiss her.

_____

Brittany mysteriously disappears on the way back to their room, promising to be home in a few hours and requesting Santana be ready to go out at seven sharp. In the mean time, Santana showers and calls in Quinn to help plan what she’ll wear.

“A date, huh?” Quinn teases, rifling through the hangers in Santana’s tiny closet.

“I know, right? When is the last time I’ve even _been_ on a date?”

“Probably that last Tinder debacle,” Quinn says with a snort. “What was her name? Sus-”

“Samantha. And let’s not even _go_ there, okay? And certainly no bringing it up when Brittany is around, thank you very much. Not my proudest moment. I still don’t know how you convinced me to even get on Tinder, nevermind actually try dating anyone from it.”

“Oh come on, at least you got some good macking action in, it wasn’t all bad.” Quinn can’t stop laughing as she finally pulls some clothes out and tosses them onto the bed.

“Yeah until I realized she was a stage one million clinger. I practically needed a restraining order. Three dates and she had our whole future planned out,” Santana groans, rolling her eyes.

“Well time to get back on that horse, as they say. Also don’t think I didn’t notice you and Brittany eye-fucking each other all afternoon out at the pool, either. Like be more obvious, would you?”

Santana freezes in the middle of brushing the tangles from her wet hair, meeting Quinn’s eyes through the mirror like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Shit. Do you think-”

“No, I don’t think anyone else thinks much of it considering you’ve been practically inseparable for over a week now. Just ‘Brittany and Santana being Brittany and Santana’ was I think how Mercedes put it earlier when someone asked.”

“Who?” Santana demands, minor panic rising in her gut at the idea of her teammates talking behind their backs and potentially wondering if there’s more going on between her and Brittany.

“I don’t know, jeez. Cool your jets, Rocketman. So you guys kissed, you’re going out on a date, it’s not really _that_ big of a deal. And certainly not the first time teammates have dated, get over yourself,” Quinn dismisses, now rustling on her hands and knees among the shoes strewn about the floor of the closet.

“Well-” Santana starts, guiltily, and Quinn turns to look at her pointedly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, what?” she demands.

“We kind of slept together.”

“The whole team knows that, idiot. You were assigned in a room with Berry and no one in their right mind would share a bed with her, so I think that was assumed.”

“Not _exactly_ the sleeping I mean, although we did do that too.”

When it finally clicks, Quinn leaps to her feet. “Santana Snix Marie Lopez!” she shouts, grabbing Santana by the hand, yanking her to the bed and sitting her down roughly. “You guys banged?! When-? How-?” she sputters, her mouth opening and closing akin to a floundering fish. Suddenly she freezes, looks around at Santana’s unkempt bed and springs to her feet. “God, am I sitting in a fresh sex bed right now? I feel unclean. I need another shower!”

“Oh don’t be such a prude, Q. And if you must know, it was in Brittany’s bed. Apparently chocolate chip waffles really get her going,” she jokes, chuckling and licking her lips subconsciously at the memory of Brittany’s sugary-sweet tongue.

“…and?”

“And what?” Santana asks, evading.

“How was it?” Quinn prods, grabbing Santana’s chin forcefully to get her full attention. There must be something telling in her expression, because Quinn narrows her eyes and studies Santana closely for a few moments. Eventually she releases her grip and busts up with laughter. “Oh boy, you’re so done for, Lopez,” she teases, shaking her head in amusement.

“Oh put a sock in it and help me, would you? I’m trying not to freak out here!”

“Alright lovergirl, let’s get you dressed and looking so fuckable Brittany won’t even want to leave this room tonight.”

_____

“When are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Santana whines, passing through the dorm door Brittany is holding open and out into the crisp September night. The horizon is aglow in bubblegum pinks and creamsicle oranges as the last of the sunlight disappears over the mountains and nighttime emerges.

“Movies,” Brittany answers, moving to take Santana’s hand but remembering they’re still on campus and settling for linking their pinkies instead. Santana isn’t crazy that their first date will be at a movie because she’d rather talk to Brittany than sit silent in a theater, but maybe they can hide in the back row and make out or something. Either way, at least she’s with Brittany. On their _first date_. The butterflies deep in Santana’s belly flutter acutely and she can’t help but grin.

“What?”

“I like you, Brittany Pierce,” Santana says, plain as day.

“And I like you back, Santana Lopez.” They pause outside a black pickup truck as Brittany pulls a set of keys from her pocket, jingling them in mid-air. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

Brittany’s smile is so bright as she pulls open the passenger door, bowing with a flourish as Santana climbs in.


End file.
